While I was packing the car, Mr JG was making preparations to build his new fence.
He told me that Nash (the son of Mr & Mrs JG) will be starting at the university of S in September, studying Business Management. (This is the university where Mr & Mrs AD’s daughter is studying Criminology. Mrs SG’s daughter also studied there.)
When I drove off, Mr JG and a friend of his were discussing the building of the new fence.
On my journey back to Suburbia Somnolenta, I stopped for a pee-break. On the way in, I passed by two families each with a daughter aged 18-24 months. One family was Indian, and was dressed in fairly traditional costume; the other family consisted of a brown-haired Anglo-Saxon woman and her little girl. The toddlers clearly wanted to stop and get to know each other. This did not feature in the Anglo-Saxon mother’s plans. The Anglo-Saxon toddler had turned to gaze at the Indian girl who, demure but friendly, was returning her gaze.
“Jessica!” the Anglo-Saxon mother called out, looking down at her daughter, impatient for her to move on.
As I was approaching the exit door, and putting on my shades, a disabled man on crutches — sixtyish, white-haired, and slightly overweight — was entering the building. Just inside the entrance, there were two mats on a tiled floor. Suddenly the disabled man slipped and fell — I imagine that one of his crutches had landed at an angle on a mat and it had slid away from him. Another man was coming into the building. He — with a bit of help from me — retrieved the disabled man’s crutches, gave them to him, and helped him to his feet.
[Original posting 2 May 2012]